


This Is What's Missing

by Keater



Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Cuddling & Snuggling, Diapers, Infantilism, Pacifiers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:05:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keater/pseuds/Keater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock know there is a void in their life, and they're going to fill it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Is What's Missing

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy this one! This was an idea that I simply couldn't let go.

Sherlock reached over the small gap between his own thigh and that of his husband’s to rest a large hand upon the blonde man’s shaking knee. John looked sheepishly down at his wobbly appendage, then up into Sherlock’s eyes, a soft smile on his face. 

“Sorry, love,” John whispered. Sherlock leaned over and placed his lips softly against the soft hair on the side of his partner’s head, taking a moment to rub his nose along the tickling tendrils. 

“There is no reason to apologize, or be nervous for that matter. This certainly is an important decision for the both of us, but I believe we have weighed the benefits and consequences that could arise and have surfaced with a reasonable conclusion,” Sherlock answered. John rolled his eyes.

“I can sense your excitement too, Mr. Scientific Theory, even if your leg isn’t as jittery as mine.” John chuckled and grasped Sherlock’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly. “I’m not nervous; more…excited. Do you think we’ll find the one?” 

Sherlock turned to look into the doctors grey eyes.

“Yes, John. I do,” Sherlock spoke confidently.

“It’s just, we’ve waited so long, done all the research and this feels right. I want everything to be perfect.” The shaking began again.

“It will be, John. We’ll know when we see.” John turned to face Sherlock, smile turning into a small smirk.

“We just have to observe, yeah?” John questioned teasingly. Sherlock’s quirked lip said it all.

 

The two men entered the unmarked and discreet building through the back entrance after paying their cabbie. While this was a notable institution, to those whose were deemed by London’s elite as notable, animosity and discretion were amongst its many qualities. Mycroft had been the one to suggest this particular establishment to his brother when the younger Holmes and his doctor had been caught at 221B pilfering baby catalogs. Sherlock had been the more surprised of the two brothers to discover that Mycroft also held similar…interests. 

Sherlock, at the time, believed it to be another factor in his chemical makeup that proved he was different. It had taken both Mycroft and John to convince him otherwise. And now both he and his partner were on the steps of The Trevor House, simultaneously ecstatic and jumpy.

As Sherlock held the door open, John walked in, scanning the large entryway and examining its minimalist décor. The doctor hoped that the other rooms where they would be going in were a little more cheerful, considering what would be inside them. 

The two men walked across the marble hallway to the reception counter where John kept his hand perched along Sherlock’s back to keep the detective from scrutinizing the girl behind the desk. 

“We have an appointment with Mr. Kensington,” Sherlock said shortly. After a discrete nudge and a meaningful eye stare from John, the consulting detective’s slight glare morphed into something akin to a smile. As much as Sherlock could smile for anyone else but John.

The receptionist beamed, looking up from her computer.

“Of course, sir. Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson? Mr. Kensington is waiting for you down the hall, last door on the left. Have a nice day,” the cheerful woman replied. 

“Thank you,” John said and steered Sherlock away by the arm before the brilliant man could begin to deduce the poor girl to tears. A short walk brought the men to their desired door. John knocked lightly before entering, followed by Sherlock. A man, a few years older than John, stood from behind a large mahogany desk to greet his desks.

“Sherlock! And John as well! How have you been, chap? Mycroft said you would be visiting today. Very prompt, I see,” he spoke with warmth in his tone. He shook both men’s hands before gesturing for them to take a seat. 

“Victor,” Sherlock nodded. Victor knew of Sherlock’s special attitude, both from a friendly acquaintance with Mycroft over the years and general word of mouth, and the man thought it best to get down to the business at hand. 

“I’m delighted that you’re ready for this, the both of you. It is very rewarding when everything works out. I’m sure you two have researched heavily into this, I know you both are good people. Is everything ready at home if today is the day,” Victor questioned not unkindly.

“Everything is settled,” John spoke for both he and Sherlock, a little sheepishly. “Actually been done for a while now. We’ve been a tad excited and might’ve gone a bit overboard.” Victor nodded from behind his desk.

“Nothing wrong with that, lad. You two are a prime example of who we desire as matches for our service. You’ll both do a fine job with this, I know it.” Victor cleared his throat and gathered a pile of folders in his hands. “Now, would you gentlemen rather peruse through the profiles and applications or take a look in the room first?” 

“I think we would much rather enjoy looking for ourselves to start with,” John said. Victor smiled knowingly. 

“Of course,” Victor said. He stood and led the men out of his office and down another hallway off the main atrium. Stopping in front of a set of French doors, John and Sherlock couldn’t help but look through the windows; the former’s face broke out into a large smile, the latter’s smaller but no less affectionate. Victor smiled with a knowing expression and patted both men on the backs.

“Take all the time you need lads,” Victor said warmly before turning in his step to return down the hall to his office. 

John turned to Sherlock and exhaled a large breathe. Holding out his hand, the doctor looked the consulting detective in the eyes.

“Ready?” the blonde asked. Sherlock’s shoulders relaxed and he smiled, taking John’s hand. One nod later and the duo opened to doors and walked in.

 

The room was filled with bright colors and natural light, but it was more comforting than blinding. There were multicolored toys and animals strewn across the room, along with blankets and pillows atop a soft plush carpet.  
Two large rocking chairs sitting in one corner, appearing warm and inviting. 

There was a long couch almost all the way against a far wall with a large blanket strewn across the back. 

But John and Sherlock’s eyes were drawn to the most notable feature in the room.

Sitting on the large rug in the middle of the room were five littles, all in various stages of play. They were all male, clad in bright colored shirts with cartoon animals on the front. Two were stacking blocks, another was coloring, and the other two were building an unrecognizable shape out of multi-colored Legos. 

At John first glance, they all seemed lovely. But then Sherlock looked down in his trademark deduction face and John knew they were done for.

The consulting detective took one look and shook his head.

“No, John. None of them are him,” Sherlock said to his husband. John looked over towards Sherlock in disbelief.

“Sherlock, you’ve been here for 20 seconds,” John whispered, shaking his head. “There’s no way you could just dismiss--,” John stopped talking when he saw the look in Sherlock’s eyes. Letting out a defeated sigh, John nodded sadly. 

“Alright, yeah. None of them, though?” 

Sherlock shook his head. John knew deep down that Sherlock wanted this just as much as he did, and if he didn't "deduce" that it was right, John could accept that. Feeling defeated and saddened, John turned to walk towards the door with Sherlock in tow when, from the corner of his eye, the doctor saw a sharp movement from the corner of the room. John nudged Sherlock and they both turned to face the couch. 

The blanket that sat draped over the back of the sofa was now being tugged with tiny yanks, until the whole piece of fabric was pulled behind the piece of furniture. Sherlock and John shared a look and made for the couch, stopping to get down on their knees and peek around the corner. 

It was there, in between the couch and wall, that they saw a large tough of bright-auburn hair. The little attached to that hair was thinner than Sherlock and wearing a blue cotton shirt and khaki shorts that stopped above his knees. He was clutching a thin picture book in one hand, letting the spine rest along his stretched out shins. The other held the blanket to his frail chest. A dark blue dummy lightly bobbed between two pink lips. 

The little’s eyes lifted from his tiny book to take in the two strangers kneeling before him.

John and Sherlock couldn’t help but stare and smile like idiots.

He was absolutely lovely.

He was adorably cute.

He was perfect.


	2. The Safe Haven Behind the Couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John find exactly what they are looking for. And some information that they weren't expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the wait for this update. I lost a family member it took a little longer than expected to get back in the rhythm of writing. But, here it is! I hope you like it and would love to hear from you if you did. Thank you all for the support for this story. I love writing it and hearing from you all. Until next chapter (which I promise will be in the near, near future)!

The little one in front of their eyes could have been a younger, miniature Sherlock, if not for his wild auburn hair and slighter frame. But, if John did think so, he had eyes just like himself, beautifully blue and currently staring at the two grown men crouching in front of his hiding space. 

John saw the little boy’s anxious glances sent between the two men he only knew to be strangers, so the good doctor situated himself sitting flat on his bottom is a less aggressive stance, and after poking his husband pointedly in the ribs, he made sure that Sherlock did as well. 

Upon seeing the two men sitting cross legged on the floor, the little in front of them relaxed slightly now that the two strangers were no longer towering over him so much. Sherlock noticed that his fingers still moved nervously around the colorful spine of his picture book and that he was shivering despite the blanket draped over himself.

"Hello there,” John said in the cheerful voice he usually reserved for his more nervous, younger patients. Inching forward, John reached his hand out slowly and placed it on a cotton-covered foot, feeling almost giddy when it wasn’t kicked away. “I’m John and this is Sherlock.”

Sherlock took in the auburn-haired little’s expression, deducing minute details before coming to a timely conclusion. The poor thing was starved for affection. Frowning and placing one of his own hands on the other available foot, the detective rubbed small circles into the delicate sole. The soft movement elicited a small giggle from behind the plastic of the little’s dummy.

After a minute or so of the soothing rubbing, and realizing that the two men who invaded his hiding space were not there to harm him, the little one in front of them calmed considerably. He looked up towards his guests then back down at his picture book, an intrigued look on his face. With the most heartwarming smile the two men had ever seen, two little hands reached out and offered the small book to the couple in front of him.

“Wead, p’wease,” he whispered behind his dummy. Sherlock and John shared a look of pure contentment at the request. They didn’t even know the little’s name but they knew, just knew that this was it. They had found the one. After months of searching, weeks of heartache, it happened like this. Sitting cross-legged behind a couch, being asked to read a tiny book about planes. 

John almost jumped for joy at the request and reached for the tiny book. Sherlock, just as excited, wrapped both hands around the sock-clad foot and squeezed affectionately. John scooted closer to the little and opened the front cover, scanning the inside. The doctor’s eyes lit up as he read the scribbled word at the top of the page. Martin. 

“Martin,” John whispered excitingly. “So that’s your name, little man?” Martin nodded and giggled lightly as John gave a little tickle to one foot. 

“Well, hello Martin,” Sherlock said smiling. He then shared a meaningful look with John, his eyes locking onto his partner’s. “You two get started, I’ll only be a moment. I promise.” The consulting detective winked at Martin with a warm smile on his face before slowly getting to his feet. Martin’s face fell a little at seeing Sherlock leave, but John was quick to comfort him. 

“It’s alright, he’ll be right back. He’s just going to do some grown-up things and that’s not as exciting as reading, is it,” John spoke reassuringly. Martin seemed to think this over and then slowly nodded, deciding that sitting with the nice man named John and reading his favorite book sounded much better than grown-up things. Besides, Sherlock, the other nice man, would be back soon. He had promised. 

Martin shivered a little beneath his blanket that had fallen askew during all the excitement. John saw this and was quick to cover Martin from his shoulders to his small feet. 

“That’s better, isn’t it,” John asked rubbing his hands along Martin’s frail arms to try and create warmth. Martin nodded, but then leveled John with sad eyes. “Oh, what’s wrong little man?” Martin looked from John’s hands down to his own lap, nervously sucking away at his dummy. Taking a small breathe, Martin peeked back up at the doctor.

“’Uddle,” he asked in a small voice. John looked confused for a moment but then realization hit him and a smile lit up his face. 

“You want a cuddle,” John asked excitingly. Martin looked absolutely relieved that John hadn’t been bothered by his request and nodded shyly. “I just so happen to give the best cuddles in all of London. Sherlock would argue that he gives the best, but we’ll let you decide, huh?” John got to his knees and slid between Martin’s back and the wall, lightly pulling the little to rest against his chest, bracketed by his legs. Wrapping one arm around Martin’s waist, he held the little book with his other while lightly resting his chin on the top of the soft auburn hair. John turned to the first page one-handed and began reading, much to Martin’s delight. He even did different voices for all the characters! “Joseph the Jet and Peter the Plane were both twice as fast as Terrance the Train…”

Meanwhile, Sherlock had reluctantly left the hidden spot behind the couch to find Victor, who so happened to be standing by the glass doors, a sad look on his face. 

“You know, then? Mycroft said you tend to observe things well, deductions he called them,” Victor said. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“I’m glad that my brother deems my skills of deduction as simply ‘well’. Such a superb adjective.” Sherlock looked back towards the couch with a sigh. “I know, or I am able to guess as much. How long?” The consulting detective met Victor’s eyes with a sense of trepidation, both dreading and dying to know more. 

“Three months, before anyone found out. When we got him out,” Victor looked towards the ground. “It wasn’t good Sherlock. I honestly can’t believe that he let anyone near him, let alone two strangers. Is he alright, behind there?” Sherlock looked again towards the couch. 

“I believe my partner and he were just about to read a book. Peter the Plane,” Sherlock said, already missing the nook behind the couch. Victor’s expression was priceless.

“He never lets anyone near it,” Victor said shocked. He then looked at Sherlock with a fond expression. “Oh, Sherlock. You and John.” The man clapped Sherlock’s shoulders affectionately. “You lads really are something.” 

“Granted he wants to come home with us, how soon can we leave with him,” Sherlock asked. Victor smiled knowingly. 

“As soon as you get him out from behind that couch, but knowing you and John, that’ll be easy enough," Victor said. Sherlock nodded and walked back towards nook with a slightly excited step. He walked behind the couch and crouched down, crawling slightly towards the pair. 

“’But Joseph and Peter loved Terrance enough to stay on the ground without even a huff'," John spoke animatedly. Looking up he and Martin saw Sherlock was back behind the couch, sitting close to the two and again reaching for Martin’s foot.

John smiled brilliantly at Sherlock, unconsciously tightening his arms around Martin even more. Martin’s eyes lit up as he saw that Sherlock had come back. He’d kept his promise! 

Sherlock smiled warmly first at Martin and then at John, where he gave a happy nod of his head. John beamed even more, if at all possible. Sherlock returned his attention to Martin, continuing to rub his thumb across his cold toes. 

“Martin,” Sherlock spoke slow and warm. “Would you like to come home with us?” Martin looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. He looked from Sherlock’s face to John’s behind him. 

“We want you to, would really love it, but we want to make sure that you really want to,” the doctor whispered down at him. Martin looked down at where his and the nice man named John’s hands were both resting on his book. And then to where the other nice man named Sherlock was rubbing his toes over and over again. With a smile that lit up his entire face, Martin looked up at the two nice men, alternating between both of them. 

“’Ore ‘uddles, wif you,” Martin asked. “’Uddles at ‘ome?” Both John and Sherlock understood Martin perfectly and nodded vigorously. 

“Cuddles and toys and everything you could ever want,” John whispered, absolutely smitten. 

“I even have books about planes,” Sherlock said excited. Martin’s face was priceless and John wished he could reach for his camera phone. Martin became excited when John lifted him up under his armpits and brought him up from the ground and then up onto his hip with his blanket, book, dummy, and all. But while he was excited, he became nervous about leaving his safe haven behind the couch. 

Sherlock and John saw his expression and quickly went about soothing him. John patted his back and bounced just a tad, trying to calm Martin’s nerves. It worked a little, but Martin still had his face plastered to the side of John’s neck. Sherlock quickly remembered reading about comfort objects and blankets in one of their many baby books, and while Martin was slightly wrapped in one already, the consulting detective slipped out of his Belstaff coat and draped it over the auburn-haired little, helping to get his arms through the overly large sleeves. The Belstaff could almost fit two of him, but as soon as the heavy coat settled on his shoulders, Martin calmed significantly. 

Placing a hand on John’s shoulder, Sherlock guided them out towards the glass doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear from you all. Feel free to leave your lovely feedback.


End file.
